Twilight: Carlisle Rescues Rosalie
by Duchess1985
Summary: Carlisle and Edward were just bidding their time at the turn of the Century when one of them comes across a true damsel in distress. Try as they might to save her... the only thing left to do to keep her from dying is the only thing left that they can offer her. A life like theirs. Graphic detail of sexual attack and medical care, NON CON, H/C.


A dark of night was a welcome relief to Carlisle, who had spent his entire day from sun up to sundown tending the sick patients at Chicago Mercy Infirmary. He felt a certain release as he perched his brown top hat above his platinum waves and fell out onto the cobbled streets of the city, wiping his hands clean of the day and of the responsibility to stay hidden from the sunlight. He could stroll, free and easily now. Although dark had only just settled, the street lamps had been lit and they provided ample light for him to see the faces of the crowds along the busy streets. Husbands hurrying home from a long workday, wives were toting their small children home to bed and the ever present population of maids, cooks and footmen gaining their hours freedom of the evening and embracing it with vigor.

This scene was not a foreign one to Carlisle; despite his position as senior practitioner at the hospital, and his wealth of knowledge in both academia and worldly issues, Carlisle was only 23 years of age. But he had been 23 for quite a while. His striking good looks and pale, grey-tone skin could be masked easily enough under the insufficient lamp light, but his rich amber colored irises and slightly tapered front teeth could not belie the truth of his very being. He was a vampire, a living dead man. Afflicted over two hundred years earlier by a curse he had turned into advantage. Sunlight was not a complete enemy to him; there were times when he and his adoptive son Edward could venture into the sunlight and not worry that their skin which glistened like crystals would show them for what they really were. But those times were scarce, especially in the bustling city of Chicago. Nevertheless, Edward and Carlisle enjoyed their relative existence in the best manner possible. Carlisle had continued his work at the infectious diseases ward at the hospital, knowing full well that such afflictions could never touch his immortal body and therefore he was at a great advantage and within a position to help in any way possible. Edward, keen to further his education had taken a position at the local court house, his administrative duties causing the boy of 17 to venture into a knowledge base he had scarcely touched under his biological mother's meager tutelage. Together they lived, posing as father and son.

Inwardly however, the stench of blood filled their nostrils constantly and the need to feed themselves became almost unbearable at times. Carlisle had almost completely perfected the skill to ride above the hunger he felt when he made his daily rounds on the wards. His inner desire for atonement proving a more formidable foe than the unyielding desire for rich human blood, thus allowing him and Edward to survive on animal blood alone. For a kind soul like Carlisle it was not hard to fall into the special diet he had become accustom to, but in all his time he had never come across a vampire that remained completely vegetarian in its drinking habits. Carlisle raised Edward on the same diet but it took no convincing from Carlisle for Edward to remain on such a restriction, the boy too was kind and considerate. So, both of them, mere years apart in age were afflicted by a human conscious which still lingered within their immortal minds.

Carlisle was hungry, he could feel it. He never attempted to deny that he could no longer smell the blood pumping through the bodies that surrounded him, but stated that he was no longer tempted to such a degree that it became dangerous for him to live amongst humans. If that day ever came, he promised himself that he would run far and clear from any other living being so as not to harm. So this night was no different to any other except that he strolled through the crowds a little faster in order to reach home. He reached a quieter and much poorer district of the city, where the chill of the evening seemed to linger most. He wrapped his ermine lined coat around his lean body for show and walked on, kicking his cane forward as he walked. Suddenly, a fresh breeze brought a new scent to his senses one that he could not easily shake off and dismiss as he did the others. A young girl, he surmised much to his own disgust. The pallor of the scent revealing itself as wine might to a connoisseur. In her late teens, probably no older than Edward. And wealthy, he could sense the texture of her blood to be healthy, well fed and coated in expensive remains of first class food. As he attempted again to shake the scent away from him, his keen vampire hearing caught a slight whimper from down one of the dark alleys. He turned quickly, and whilst making sure he was now alone and without audience sped down the alley at an inhuman pace toward the pleadings. When he reached the dead end, the stench became overwhelming and he had to, for the first time in many years, fight the urge to land upon the vague heap lying against the brick wall and finish her off. When the man in him realized what he had come across, it was not hard to push those inner cravings into the back of his mind and assess the scene in front of him.

His age estimation was almost perfect, the young girls long dancing blonde tendrils and smooth pink-hued complexion revealing her to be a young lady, only just released out into society. Her tall body was curvaceous and it stunned Carlisle to realize he was attracted to her. He imagined he would have been a great deal more so had his attention been completely on her appearance rather than the doctor in him studying the way her shivering body lay at an impossible angle to the wall and nearby dumpster. He heard her feverish moaning once more and put a stop to his inner deliberation, he simply must help her. Or at least get her to a place where someone could. He edged forward, and with each step more and more of the gruesome scene unveiled itself to him. There was blood on the ground, its color no longer resembling something tempting to him as it was mixed with a dark slimy mud from the ground. There was a purse on the ground, its feminine contents splayed across the ground, a flimsy scarf and pale grey beret. The girl had misplaced one shoe and the pieces of clothing which had been indecently left on her body were all but ripped to shreds anyway, providing next to no cover for her. Carlisle maintained his distance still, crouching down to her level and tilting his head to look at her face. Among the various patterned cuts and bruises along her naked arms and legs, her lip had been split open and one of he eyes was swollen shut. Her hair was mattered and lay slicked to her forehead as she broke out in alternative sweats and chills. Every instinct in him told Carlisle to help her, it was clear she had been attacked most savagely by more than one man he presumed and with the onset of a fever coupled with lose of blood, would not last the night. One instinct in him prevailed though and questioned whether he would be able to resist her. He would need to carry her that much was obvious. The effort on her part would undoubtedly cause the bleeding to worsen, and she would almost certainly struggle against him. His stomach clenched in anger for what had been done. He breathed out slowly and made his decision; he had been a man before he had been a vampire.

His senses had led him to believe she was completely unconscious, but as he neared her slowly she flinched in reaction, her eye fluttering open madly. She pulled away from him as he leaned forward and placed two fingers on her wrist to check her heart beat count. It was rapid, and he could feel with every pulse throb that warm blood seeped from her wounds. He would need to hurry. Something in him quickened when he first locked eyes with her, the frightened stare that she summoned or perhaps the million questions that danced in between their gaze momentarily. She was afraid of him, her brilliant green eyes prevailed that much to him but Carlisle sensed it was more in fact of his gender than any other significant reason. As he dared another quick glance along her near-naked trembling body, he understood why. He kept his hand close to her as he edged forward on his knees in graceful, fluid movements which veiled no malicious intent, but still she squirmed. Her mind was beyond reason and her instincts took flight as she lashed out toward him and lost her balance, collapsing fully across his outstretched arms. Her opened palm had slapped his cold face but he had felt no pain and hardly any pressure on his strong structure. Her landing was cushioned by the inhuman strength in his limbs which lifted her and cradled her gently as though she weighed no more that the delicate scarf which blew its way down the alley with a stiff breeze. He released his long cloak and draped it as best he could around her shivering shoulders. As he stood, she squealed in protest and pushed with all her might against his chest for him to release her. Although his gut wrenched as she begged him to leave her be, he held her closer still as he moved as swiftly as the wind; concentrating carefully on not crushing her within his embrace.

The candle light flickered along Edward's puzzled face as Carlisle swept through the glass shutter-windows and knelt by the double feather bed, cradling a blonde woman gently in his arms. He had been working on transcribing some witness statements onto the smaller file cards for the archives but the majority of the transcripts had proved to be so informative for him that very little scribing was actually being achieved. Edward never worried about completing his set tasks in time, for he would never be hounded by sleep. The moment his father-figure glided in through the window, an overwhelming flavor of blood drifted throughout his being, rendering him unable to consider anything other than immediate resistance. It swam deep into his being, overtaking any other emotions such as concern for Carlisle or consideration as to who this beautiful woman would be and better yet, what was wrong with her. It took many strong words from Carlisle and a sturdy shaking from his mentor for him to wake up and focus on the scene in front of him once more.

'Edward, listen carefully to me,' Carlisle begun calmly. 'I will need your help in this matter. This girl has been hurt and something, I don't know what exactly, has brought her here to us… for our help.'

Edward stared at Carlisle's rational face and longed one day for such restraint. Edward mouthed the word 'help' as though the very concept was impossible and Carlisle nodded expectantly. 'I understand this is difficult, and if you find you simply cannot contain yourself you can leave and I would not think anything of it. But if you could find it in yourself to help me with her, I would…' he trailed off, Edward stayed rooted to his position by the desk, stunned at Carlisle's reluctance. He had never seen him like this before, and likewise he had never asked Edward for anything. '… I would be very grateful to you.' That was all that needed saying, Edward had already decided to summon all his strength and help in any way he could.

He circled the bed tentatively and Carlisle moved to the sideboard and poured the decanter of water into the basin, ceremoniously bathing his hands.

'Where… where did you find her?' Edward stammered, the images that he could normally read in Carlisle's mind were muddled and racing too fast for even Edward to grasp. Carlisle's gift remained unconfirmed but both men agreed that it must almost certainly be a great compassion toward those that suffer, whereas Edward's gift before he was turned proved more often than not to be in observing people and their emotions. When he was turned by Carlisle on his deathbed, the vampirism had clearly turned a handy skill he possessed as a young man into a full-fledged gift of reading people's minds. He could also read other vampire minds which was useful but not an advantage over his beloved Carlisle. Carlisle was so good-natured and none of what he thought was too heinous to repeat out loud if he ever had the need. Edward heard vaguely the sounds of a soft woman's voice pleading for death, he had always noticed the closer the person was to actually perishing, the quieter the thoughts were that he listened in on.

'In one of the alleyways in the north, I smelt the blood and found her like this,' Carlisle wiped his tidy hands on a dry washcloth and stood at the end of the bed with Edward. 'Please do not ask me why I brought her here. Everything in me told me to finish her, to put her out of her misery, but something else I couldn't ignore told me to see what could be done first.'

'She wishes for death,' Edward moved over to the window and gazed out pensively. 'Greatly.' He sensed Carlisle nodding knowingly.

'Can you tell me anything about what she sees,' he asked, Edward turned around swiftly to question his mentor's methods. 'When I ask her what happened and what her injuries are she most certainly will not be able to answer me, but her weakness may not stop her mind from conveying the answers?' He took his place slowly beside her on the bed and put a hand to her forehead, he knew Edward already had agreed. Edward, still hesitant about nearing her stood against the far wall pining his hands behind him. He watched Carlisle as he tended to her; checking her wrist for a heart rate again, detecting a high fever in her brow and clothing it with a cold wash cloth. Without hesitation, Carlisle slowly peeled back his jacket from its place hiding her naked frame and turned the gasoline lantern up to a high notch. Edward gasped, feeling his own anger as well as Carlisle's rising up into his chest. There were numerous bruises lining her limbs, leading their way along her pale porcelain skin like a trail of clues to a much more sinister finding. The more sinister finding proved to be the origin of the thin blood streaks which ribboned their way down the inside of both her thighs. Carlisle's chest clenched and Edward saw, for the first time in his life, an image in Carlisle's mind of pure and utter revenge portrayed in simple acts of blood-thirsty violence toward the perpetrators. 'She has most certainly been raped, more than once I would assume. Although we may never know how many men there were?'

Edward didn't even need to connect with her in search of an answer; he closed his eyes and found himself within the reenactment which was taking place in her mind. 'Five of them,' he droned, his eyes watering as he felt the pain that she had. As her mind replayed the occurrence, Edward found himself within her body lying on the ground with the men hovering over her. He struggled to continue speaking what he saw. 'Not thugs, society men. They know her name.' Carlisle listened intently; softly cleaning any open wounds with iodine and placing loose dressings on them. 'Rosalie…' his voice trailed off as he clenched his eyes shut obviously trying to remove himself from her thoughts.

Carlisle repeated her name quietly over and over, the sound of it rolling off his tongue into the warm room. He replaced the wash cloth into a fresh basin of boiled water which Edward had fetched and sighed. He reached down suddenly and lifted the shreds of her under-drawers. She shrieked uncontrollably and pulled away from him, unsuccessfully as he and Edward moved to steady her on the bed.

'Careful Edward, use hardly any strength on her. You mustn't crush her,' Carlisle warned. Edward loosened his grip on her shoulders and in return he felt her surrender to the two of them and lie down again, resting her head in Edward's lap.

'She thinks we mean to harm her. That we too will…' Carlisle nodded at Edward's findings.

'She would assume such a thing I suppose, and she'll assume more once I move to inspect her,' Edward's eyes widened at Carlisle as he moved to the end of the bed and made contact with her ankles. Edward knew what those men had done would have hurt her, but he could not fathom the inner workings of Carlisle's medical mind. 'Edward you will need to hold her still, she will most certainly object to this.'

'Carlisle?' Edward asked, sensing his mentor's hesitation to the task anyway.

'Edward she is bleeding, profusely. If I can stop the bleeding she might have a chance, but if I let her be I wager she won't live longer than a few hours. It's against everything in me to do this… to frighten her, but if it means saving this young girls life than I shall do what I have to.' There was no anger in the way it was said, but without any further stalling Carlisle pried the girl's legs apart and went to work, gently but swiftly. To Edward's surprise, there was little struggle from her physically, but her emotional thoughts which throbbed their way through his mind were unbearable. Her desperate pleadings and uncontrollable begging, coupled with Carlisle's medical rotations made his mind ache. Edward's mind swam with chivalry, almost to the point where he believed she was in need of saving from Carlisle. There were moments of pause from Carlisle as he wiped his brow and painfully snuck a look at her tortured face but it was a further few moments before he stood to his feet and suddenly upended the small desk which Edward had been unsuspectingly been working at just a few hours earlier. It was the first and the last moment of unrestrained violence which Carlisle would ever exhibit.

'I cannot save her Edward, what use am I to her if I cannot save her?' his voice was angry but not loud. Even now, his temper was kept in relative check. 'Why did I even bring her here? To prolong her agony? Isn't it enough that five men have done this to her, then we have to frighten her into thinking she is bound for it once more?' Edward sensed the rhetoric in these statements so he kept quiet, his restraint on her turning more into a cradle, his hand gently cupping her cheek. Carlisle picked up the table and chair and placed himself wearily down on the chair. Edward knew he was not tired, vampires could never get tired but his posture showed fatigue in every other way possible. 'I cannot stop the bleeding, I cannot find where she bleeds from inside,' he spoke in an irreverent tone, almost as to himself. He began to reel off the minute pieces of anatomy, only a handful of which Edward had heard of. But whilst reading Carlisle's mind he saw the vampire doctor picturing them in places he had learnt from- text books, sketches, cadavers and other internal examinations he had performed on women. Edward was fascinated by the extent of Carlisle's knowledge base. 'It is no use; she has lost too much blood now even if I could find where to staunch it.'

'But…' Edward was a little perplexed, his skills in smell had not yet been honed as Carlisle's had and he could not measure the amount of blood that still remained in a body. 'How can you tell?'

'You can smell it; the lost blood is cold and is mixed with outside scents like the smell of this room. You can tell it's drained away from the body because it won't tempt you as much. The blood that's still inside of her would not be enough to quench either of us if we decided to drink, it is that little,' he moved over to the window and swung open the glass shutters. A fresh breeze penetrated Edward's senses. 'Blood, precious. So precious,' he muttered.

A handful of minutes passed, and Edward leant down and hushed into her ear to settle her. She was weakening, that much he was sure of and her skin had gone cold and felt clammy to touch. Her beautiful green eyes which had fluttered open in protest to the two men holding her down had faded and drawn back into their dark sockets. Her swollen eye was no longer red; it was as though there was no longer any blood to be sent to her wounds for healing. Carlisle was right, Edward could still smell blood but it was not warm or fresh anymore. Most of it lay seeped into the linen bed sheets, puddled on the wooden floorboards and on Carlisle's hands which he held in front of himself now, gazing at them longingly. The moon had risen to its peak height and washed the small bedroom in a grey tone, almost completely disguising her bruises, making her illuminate… just like them. As Carlisle turned back to face the bed, he noticed this too.

Turning Rosalie into a vampire had been the hardest turn Carlisle had ever, or would ever have to do. Again, she had to be restrained for even in her weakness there was fight left in her. Also his pseudo-son Edward watched every move he made intent on observing so as to learn how he too became what he was. Rosalie's blood, however scarce in volume, appealed to Carlisle. It was perhaps the most potent scent he had ever detected, and therefore it took every inch of self-control to only infect her and not drain her dry, as was his want. Edward had assured him that she wanted death, she wished for it but only because of the intense pain and fear that racked through her body with every breath. The decision was not made lightly; it took deliberation by both men, and as she came closer to her natural death, images of her dreams floated into Edward's mind and he relayed them to Carlisle. Although some of her future wants and desires could not be replicated in her new life, like having a child to call her own, both men felt the majority of what she wished for could be easily achieved in a life that death could not touch. Carlisle had also discovered that she had contracted sepsis from her open wounds and this would very quickly riddle her with violent tremors, fluctuating body temperature, muscle spasms, intense head migraines and eventual lung failure. The bleeding internally had stemmed a little which unfortunately meant she would linger further still. This was not something either man desired.

After the turn, Edward lay beside her on the feather bed and stroked her forehead repeatedly. Carlisle, having exhausted himself mentally, sat back and watched Edward as he caressed her gently. He had become more empathic than Carlisle had ever thought another creature could be and the thought of it made him swell with pride. His mind settled whenever he considered that he had turned her incorrectly, when he watched the innate movements Edward made toward Rosalie and entertained the idea of the two of them as life-long companions. He knew even as a vampire, Rosalie's emotional and mental scars would take years to heal but Edward's reserve was strong and his gentlemanly patience exceeded most boy's of his age; he knew his son would wait until the girl were ready. When he looked more closely at the pair lying face to face, he noticed Edward grinning.

'What?' he whispered toward Edward, careful not to wake the sleeping Rosalie. It was often a number of hours before the human body eventually died completely and the creature took over. Sleep was a bridge in between both instances and it would be the last time a vampire would ever slumber.

'I don't know whether to think you forget that I can read your thoughts sometimes, or you practice it deliberately to save yourself breath?' Edward murmured with a little smile as he rose out of the bed and straightened his clothing. Carlisle just lowered his head in denial. 'I will admit sometimes it is flattering to hear your boastful thoughts of me, but do you honestly think she will ever learn to trust either of us?' Edward's face turned serious and Carlisle responded by making eye contact.

'I believe it will be hard, but it most certainly can be done,' he replied. Edward shed his shirt which had spots of blood on it and remained wrinkled from last night. 'Edward, don't discount yourself. You have a lot to offer, and Rosalie will see that if she chooses to.'

'If she chooses to,' Edward repeated. He slid a crisp shirt over his chest and began to tuck in the tails. 'Have you considered that she may not choose to acknowledge me, or you? What if she hates us for what we've brought onto her? What if she wakes and finds herself still wishing for that death that she begged us for?' Carlisle didn't answer, he had none. Edward was right, these possibilities were all plausible. And Carlisle believing it wouldn't be a better alternative would not make them not occur. 'What if she wakes and there is only one thing she wishes for? The death of those five men. What if all the other dreams and aspirations I sensed in her disappear with her mortal soul?'

Carlisle chose to ignore Edward's reference to the disappearance of a human's soul once they were turned into creatures of the night. It was one of the very few subjects that Carlisle truly despised discussing for he had always felt still very much in connection with God, especially as he nursed ill patients back to health or held them as they passed on from disease. But he would not be so forthright as to assume God had a place for a creature such as a vampire, who preys on innocents.

'Then we will help her Edward,' he answered. 'You know I am not completely immune to vengeance. And revenge even in its weakest forms is one thing even I will complete if someone I care about has been wronged at this person's hand. What of you Edward, what would you do if you saw these men again?'

Edward took a moment to think. 'I cannot think what I would do, only of what I would want to. But since we have made their victim so imperiously powerful, I believe it would be fitting to allow her to turn the tables on her attackers,' he surmised. Carlisle nodded and smiled a little to himself. Edward noticed and questioned him with his eyes.

'It's all right,' Carlisle began. 'I just keep waiting for you and I to disagree on anything. I suspect I shall be waiting a long time to come for that day.'


End file.
